


Fire with Fire

by A_Winter



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Elementals, Gen, Useful Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Winter/pseuds/A_Winter
Summary: It’s simple really; if you want to extinguish a fire there are several ways to accomplish this. You can douse the flames with water, usually the simplest and most effective method. If you’re trying to limit damage to a person or thing you might smother the flames with dirt or a heavy blanket. Though the most effective way, if someone were to ask Bilbo’s opinion… which of course no one ever did, was to suffocate the flame. To draw out the vital oxygen which fuelled the flames until they ceased to exist.  It was a particularly painful yet effective way to kill a spark but Bilbo knew it to be most effective.The other thing Bilbo Baggins knew, without a doubt, was that you could not fight a fire with even more fire.Some might argue that you could use strategic burning to control the spread of flames but it was not a guarantee that you would not end up with multiple fires or one overwhelming storm of flames on your hands. No, fight fire with yet more fire was a useless endeavour which is exactly what Bilbo told Gandalf the Grey when he delivered thirteen Dwarves and a mission to Slay a Fire Drake on his dining table one evening in some kind of sick joke.





	1. Elemental my dear Bilbo…

Chapter 1: Elemental my dear Bilbo…

All who knew of Hobbits knew about their preference for the simple life and their attachment to things which grow. A little-known fact however, mostly because no one truly cared to ask or take notice of the smaller creatures, was that this connection with Yavanna’s treasures went deeper than a simple green thumb or a talent for tomatoes. Each and every Hobbit had a ‘talent’ for a particular element which helped the Hobbits to thrive and create a world worthy of their maker.

There were five main talents a Hobbit might possess, and several lesser so, and each Hobbit may develop their talents to differing levels but each will know it’s pull and feel a fondness when working with their element. The three most common talents within the Shire were those of Air, Earth and Growth. Those with a talent for Air could make a breeze as easily as breathing, could feel a change in weather on the wind or even hold their breaths indefinitely, often not seen as one of the more useful talents in the Shire Air Hobbits often made the best Singers and depending on their skill with their talents they could even calm heavy winds of storms or suck the Oxygen out of raging Wildfires extinguishing them instantly.

The next most common talent was Earth, these Hobbits had a feel for the ground beneath them and often made the best builders within the Shire. To be expected of a species which build their homes into hills within the ground. An Earth Hobbit could tell you if soil was ready for planting just by the feel of it beneath their furry feet or diagnose a sickness in crops based on its texture. At their best Earth Hobbits had even been known to manipulate large bodies of soil, most needed during heavy storms and landslides in the early years of the Shire. This was an envied skill within the Shire and Bilbo was proud to boast that his father, Bungo Baggins, in full Baggins tradition was an Earth Hobbit. He’d used his knowledge of the earth to find the best place to build BagEnd as a wedding present for Bilbo’s mother and it was still the envy of many relatives. 

The last, and most envied, of the Shire talents was that of Growth. These Hobbits felt the life within things deeply, they felt it in plants, animals and Hobbits alike. Being banned from participating in any Gardening Competitions these Hobbits often had the most wondrous gardens, lucrative crops, vibrant families and generous spirits. Growth Hobbits often made effective healers and midwives as they could feel a faunt in womb before even the mother could, they could feel sickness in those they touched and though they could not cure it the could encourage health and healing just as they did in plants. Bilbo’s mother, much like her own Tookish Heritage, had been a Growth Hobbit but though she could feel the spark of life within those she touched she’d never had the strength to manipulate it as others could. It was for this reason, among others, that their neighbours had pitied Belladonna Baggins so much and her inability to carry a child to term and slowly feeling each of her children perish within her before they were old enough to know her. 

Aside from these talents there were others a Hobbit could be gifted with such as water, though not many within the Shire could claim such a talent. Bilbo did suspect his cousin Drogo was showing an affinity for it, what with the sheer ruckus the lad had always made when forced out of the bath as a faunt, but they wouldn’t know for sure until his Element testing at his Majority celebration on his Thirty Third birthday. 

Another possible talent was for stone, it was similar to that of Earth but was more concentrated. These Hobbits became blacksmiths or Jewellers and though they might never have the skills Dwarves claimed it was a sight better than any other Hobbit could claim. And though there were sure to be more the last one Bilbo could name was that of Fire. 

Hobbits did not like those with an affinity to Fire, usually accusing them of being too volatile and dangerous. Most with a talent for Fire either tried to hide it or left the Shire due to the prejudice and fear. In an average Fire Hobbit it meant little more than a thicker skin to heat and a rather constant fever. Fire trait Hobbits ran at higher internal temperature than others, usually being mistaken as sickly faunts, and could reach into the centre of a forge to pull out a single ember without incident. These Hobbits would have been suited to careers as bakers, blacksmiths or such but few Hobbits trusted those with Fire affinity to keep their cool if they encouraged their gifts. The problems was that, as with all talents, young Hobbits learning the limits of their affinities could be dangerous and none more so than Fire Hobbits as one uncontrolled Wildfire could easily wipe out the entire Shire any many of those living within it. 

Bilbo Baggins was one such Hobbit, he had the affinity to Fire which made most of his kin and neighbours give him a wide birth and a feigned politeness though many would like nothing more than to see him removed from the Shire altogether. However, seeing as Bilbo was an altogether respectable Hobbit who had never practiced his talent, at least not where other could see, and being of two well connected families there was nothing the naysayers could do but grit their teeth and simmer… at least not until an entirely unrespectable Grey Wizard arrived in the Shire with a hoarding of Dwarves all headed for Bag End.


	2. Steamy Dinner Date…

“Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!” Bilbo scolded grabbing the cloth from a Dwarf whose name he was never going to remember, though his hair was just as distinctive as a name.

“But it’s full of holes!” Defended another, this one wore a hat and apparently thought himself funny. 

“It’s supposed to look like that, it’s crochet.” Explained the Hobbit evenly. 

“Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it.”

“Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!” Bilbo Swore, trying to keep his fiery temper in check. As far as most people were concerned he was quite a reasonable Hobbit but being of the Fire talent he had to keep his temper under reign lets things quite literally go up in smoke. 

“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?” Enquired Gandalf and Bilbo could honestly feel his temperature rise, he may have idolised the Wizard as a faunt. A creature who manipulated fire and wasn’t afraid of it, how could he not? But those feelings had nothing to do with the matter at hand! 

“What’s the matter? I’m surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?”

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them.” The Wizard justified looking around fondly. 

“I don’t want to get used to them.” Bilbo exploded, thankfully only verbally… “The state of my kitchen! There’s mud trod into the carpet, they’ve pillaged the pantry. I’m not even going to tell you what they’ve done in the bathroom; they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing. I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!”

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?” Bilbo deflated at the gentle request and was about to offer to take the blasted thing when he was cut off by another Dwarf… the one with the freshly sharpened blades… 

“Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” Suddenly Bilbo was watching his mother’s dishes being thrown around his home, temper boiling close to the surface Bilbo tried not to move and to focus on his breathing but as the singing started so did the cracks in his control. Luckily, for the Dwarves at least, their loud singing covered the increased roar of the fire in the heart and the scream of the kettle on the stove boiling over. 

Though when he looked up, brought back from his tantrum by the overwhelming silence the dishes were clean and stacked and the Dwarves were staring at the door.   
“He is here.” Offered Gandalf ominously but grudgingly Bilbo opened the door, what was one more Dwarf when he’s smial was already infested. 

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” Complained the newest addition to this Dwarf raid and Bilbo felt his temper boil again. 

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo was about to launch into a tirade regarding vandalism only to be interrupted again, that seemed to be happening a lot with these Dwarves. 

“So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“Pardon me?” Bilbo was taken aback, the only fighting he’d done was to keep himself in check and other out of harm. 

“Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?” He couldn’t really say the truth could he? 

“Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that’s relevant.” Trying to use humour to relieve the pressure of the conversation, he decided to leave that to the hatted Dwarf instead. 

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Bilbo bristled as this Thorin and his accompaniment of rude, obnoxious smial destroying Dwarves laughed at his expense and heard the kettle begin to squeal once more. Stiffly Bilbo excused himself to take the blasted thing off the flame and put it out of harm’s way, and hopefully regain control of himself while her was at it. Even his cousin Lobelia hadn’t made him over boil a kettle in more than ten years, let alone twice in one night. 

When Bilbo returned the dining room it was to sour-mc-grumpy-face saying, “They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.”

“You’re going on a quest?” the Hobbit enquired, a story was a fine way to cool his sparking nerves. 

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.” Bilbo muttered under his breath about not being the Wizard’s house keeper but did as he was told, the wick of the candle lighting without a match as the Hobbit lifted it over the table and the map Gandalf was spreading. 

“Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”

“The Lonely Mountain.” Bilbo read, he’d seen his fair share of maps in his father’s collections but not one like this. 

“Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.” Declared one Dwarf

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.” Bilbo looked at the older Dwarf with his hearing trumpet and almost asked to borrow the thing. 

“Uh, What beast?” The hatted ‘humorous’ dwarf answered though Bilbo wished he hadn’t asked. 

“Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne firebreather, teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks, extremely fond of precious  
metals”

“Yes, I know what a Fire Drake is.” Bolbo scoffed, good luck to this lot getting passed a Dragon. 

“I’m not afraid! I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie.” Bilbo gave an indulgent smile even as another Dwarf pulled the young lad back to sitting. 

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and  
not thirteen of the best, nor brightest.” Bilbo liked this Dwarf, despite what he’d said about Bilbo’s lovely blue cheese. 

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!” Called out the young blonde one, over his peers grumbles and complaints. Bilbo was starting to understand that this interrupting thing was definitely a Dwarven trait. 

“And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.” Offered his brother and Bilbo tried not to laugh. Gandalf, fight a dragon? Maybe if it was made of Fireworks! 

“Oh, well, now, uh, I-I-I wouldn’t say that, I-” Stumbled the old codger and Bilbo felt a trickle of satisfaction at his discomfort. Bilbo tuned out of the descending argument until his attention, and everyone else’s, was brought back by Thorin Grumpy-shield. 

“Shazara! If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!” The Dwarves cheered the speech and even Bilbo had to admit it stirred the Fire within his own blood. 

“You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.” Like a breath of fresh air the temperature within the room cooled and Bilbo realised why he liked this Dwarf so instinctively. He was like a calming breeze, he had the power with his words to fuel the flames of those around him but he remained in control and used his presence to influence those with lesser experience to keep the peace.

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Trust meddling Wizards, Gandalf produced an ornately wrought key from his robes and capture the Dwarves attention once more.

“How came you by this?” Demanded Oaken-brood but Bilbo tuned out of the explanation as he looked from the key to the map. 

“If there is a key, there must be a door.” The blonde practically exploded with excitement.

“These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.” Gandalf pointed at runes on the map with his pipe.

“There’s another way in!” Shouted the young brunette, he and his brother seemed intent on restating the obvious but no one seemed to be paying them any mind. 

“Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden  
somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middleearth  
who can.” Gandalf explained, “The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.” 

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Apparently it wasn’t just the brothers, Bilbo nodded indulgently at the young Dwarf. 

“Hm, A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” demanded the large grey-haired Dwarf who had been shouting about portents earlier. Gah---something 

“Am I what?” Bilbo questioned, blinking owlishly as he tried to make sense of what was being asked of him.

“He said he’s an expert! Hey hey!” Answered the older Dwarf with poor hearing and Bilbo blanched at the general laughter. 

“MMe? No, no, no, no, no. I’m not a burglar; I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.” Set a few things on fire and hidden the evidence perhaps but never stolen…

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Bilbo nodded heartily 

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” The Hobbit continued to nod, though he could fend for himself well enough thanks to his talent he had no desire to accidentally roast anyone alive if he lost his cool. 

Thinking the matter was settled Bilbo was ready to dismiss the evening entirely as the Dwarves argued, unfortunately for him Gandalf was not. 

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.” Bilbo flinch along with the Dwarves, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this.” Bilbo felt both anooyed and flattered at Gandalf’s defence of him Flattered obviously due to the depths of his faith yet irritated that the Wizard believed he knew Bilbo better after one morning meeting that Bilbo himself after a lifetime… it was vexing to say the least especially as the Dwarves took this as acceptance. 

“Very well. We will do it your way.” Replied Sour-shield despite Bilbo’s continued protests, “Give him the contract.”

Suddenly Bilbo had his hands full of paper and he couldn’t help but read it as chatter began to spin around him. 

“Alright, we’re off!”

“It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.”

“I cannot guarantee his safety.”

“Understood.”

“Nor will I be responsible for his fate.”

“Agreed.”

Riled by their continued discussion of him and his fate without his input Bilbo began to read aloud. 

“Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence there of including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?” Bilbo had meant his tone to be disbelieving and a message to Gandalf but the Dwarves took it as fear or confusion. 

“Oh, aye, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” 

“Huh.” Bilbo wasn’t listening, his mind skimming back years to his talent testing and the first time his body was engulfed in flames. 

“You all right, laddie?” 

Bilbo bent over, trying to clear his head as his body yearned for the comfort of the flames and he could feel the fire building inside of him. Leaping at the change to be free, like the Fire Drake could be. 

“Uh, yeah...Feel a bit faint.” Bilbo lied. 

“Think furnace with wings.” Bilbo thought of the Dragon burning the Dwarves alive and felt sick, but before he knew it the image shifted and it was his own flame destroying them and Bilbo’s lie became truth. 

“Air, III need air.” He tried to look at Gandalf, to get his meaning across but no, the damned Dwarf just kept talking. 

“Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.” Breathing heavily Bilbo turned and left the room in a rush, hand over his mouth until he could make his way to the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach in privacy. 

“Ah, very helpful, Bofur.” Comment Gandalf as the sounds of retching could be heard in the now silent dining room. 

X~X~X

“I’ll be all right, let me just sit quietly for a moment.” Bilbo said, waving off the concerned Dwarves, the one with the hat and the other who’d offered Gandalf tea and wine earlier, as he returned to the sitting room following his dash to the bathroom. The Hobbit paused long enough to give an appreciative smile at their concern before sinking into his arm chair with a strong cup of whiskey tea. 

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me; when did doilies and your mother’s  
dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who’d stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it’s out there.” The Wizard lectured but Bilbo rolled his eyes, as a youth he’d been a bit of a wild spirit sure enough. Most put it down to his Took heritage but in truth it was the influence of his Talent, the flames within him longing to be free in a way he didn’t understand until he was older. 

Until the risks of such a carefree attitude were made truly apparent. 

“I can’t just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End.” Bilbo said instead, hoping this would be enough to end the argument but one never truly won an argument with a Wizard. 

“You are also a Took. Did you know that your greatgreatgreatgreatuncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?”

“Yes.” Bilbo rolled his eyes, Bullroarer had been a grower with significant talent which showed even in his youth with his excessive size and continued growth spurts throughout his entire life. He’d been the biggest Hobbit in recorded history, Bilbo was proud to be related to him. 

“Well he could. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King’s head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.”

“I do believe you made that up.” Narrowed his eyes suspiciously, never having heard such a story from his Took relatives. 

“Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.”

“I do like a good story, but Gandalf how can I help? What is your plan?” Bilbo looked expectantly at the Wizard who spluttered and mumbled to himself. 

“That’s what I thought. Another hobbit might be able to feel if the Dragon is alive before they enter the mountain, or suffocate the flames by creating a vacuum. An earth talent could bring the entire mountain down but I doubt your Dwarves would appreciate that, I am none of these and I don’t know how you think I can face off a dragon.” Bilbo shook his head and raised the contract, “Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.”

Bilbo put the contract back on the table before walking towards his room; he turned back briefly to address the Dwarves who looked at him solemnly. “Make yourselves comfortable, there are blankets and pillows in the chest in the hall.”


	3. Duped with soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trolls...

Bilbo looked at the overwhelming bulk of the trolls in front of them, filthy creatures that they were the stench made his eyes water but he tried to focus as they tied several of the Dwarves around a stripped tree trunk which they lifted onto a makeshift spit over their mostly ignored soup pot. Bilbo felt his heart stutter as he realised the trolls intention to roast the Dwarves alive, he knew he had to do something and struggled to put some distance between him and the other sack wrapped Dwarves. Which wasn’t so difficult since he was on the edge of the group anyway, the others in the Company still maintaining a general frosty distrust towards the Hobbit which resulted in a general dismissal and lack of attention paid. Both of which suited the small Hobbit fine as he rolled away from the group, felt the friction build between his skin and the bag and with a small spark of encouragement the entire hessian sack was up in flames. 

Bilbo made a show of struggling and shouting, the Dwarves assisting in that the minute they noted the flames, until one of the Trolls stomped over and kicked a torrent of dirt and rubble and the apparently burning creature. 

“Wait your turn!” Shouted the Troll before he stomped off again; Bilbo waited a few moments for the beast to turn his focus back onto his supper before working his way free of the debris and jumping silently to his feet. A few of the Dwarves noted his ‘survival’ and readied themselves to call out but Bilbo shot them a look which had Thorin kicking his nephews to silence them as Bilbo crept towards the fire pit. Using the Trolls large stature to his benefit and their poorly constructed spit as cover Bilbo made his way to the fire and put his and out into the flames. Back tucked against the trunk of the spit and body hidden behind the pot Bilbo waited until all attention was drawn elsewhere by the Squabbling Trolls before he rolled into the flames and under the boiling pot. The small Hobbit tried not to shudder with relief as the comfort of being surrounded by familiar heat seeped into his bones in a way nothing else could. Tension melted from him even as he closed his eyes and drew the flames down to him, hidden perfectly between the base of the boiling pot Bilbo sucked the heat and the power towards him until there was nothing left but rapidly cooling embers, a no longer boiling pot, relieved Dwarves and fuming Trolls. 

As the Trolls shouted and complained Bilbo slipped out from under the pot, eyes locking briefly with wide brown eyes set in young beardless face stared at him but Bilbo was sprinting away before the lad could made a sound and ruin everything. Skirting around the bumbling Trolls trying uselessly to relight the flames as they shoved and pushed each other, complaining loudly at their own useless bulk. Plucking a tall stalk of lavender as he ran Bilbo paused well out of reach of the fumbling oafs before he whistled for their attention, which they gave him readily with a confused shout. 

“How’d you get loose, flurgalahobbit?” Burt queried as he surged forward trying to grasp Bilbo in his meaty hand. 

“The same way you’re going to get that fire started again,” Bilbo explained as he dodged the grasping limb on light feet, his ears ringing with the sounds of protesting Dwarves behind him. 

“Waddaya mean…?” Asked the Troll known as Bill and Bilbo presented the Lavender with a flourish.

“A flower?!” Scoffed Tom laughing at the small creature even as Bilbo twirled the plant between his fingers, the friction increasing until a spark formed and lit the whole stalk alight with a fierce orange flame.

The camp was silent as both Trolls and Dwarves stared at the Hobbit in amazement. “We call it a Fire-Thistle back home, when manipulated or crushed it creates a spark that is ideal for lighting quick and strong fires.” Bilbo explained sagely as he plucked too more stalks of lavender. “It looks at lot like the flower Lavender but it is what caused the small fire before. Pick as many as you can and you’ll have a fresh fire in no time!” 

In an instant the Trolls were crouching searching for the weed, the clearing filling with the overwhelming stench of crushed lavender and Bilbo was forgotten even as he glimpsed a familiar grey hat with relief. Bilbo snuck back to the Dwarves on the ground and began to untie them while whispering for them to stay still. 

“Gandalf is coming, do not move yet or you may distract them.” The dwarves nodded dutifully and remained still and silent, most of them at least. 

“What about the others, shouldn’t we save them?” Kili whispered loud enough to wake the dead, resulting in a repeat of his Uncle’s boot in his side.

“There is no chance of that, those flowers won’t burn without a spark. They may not be comfortable but they are safe.” Bilbo moved on and was untying the last sack of bundled Dwarf as Gandalf burst into the clearing breaking a stone and creature three more. It was all very dramatic, which Gandalf had a tendency to be. 

Once the threat was neutralised and the Dwarves went around dismantling the spit to release their kin Bilbo was pulled aside by Oin, much to the Hobbit’s surprise. 

“Show us what you’ve got laddy” the older Dwarf said from behind the Hobbit, his tone louder than it should have been due to his failing hearing. 

“Excuse me?!” Bilbo jumped, his mind whirling with what the Dwarf may have seen, may now believe. Bilbo had thought only Kili had seen him roll from under the Pot but perhaps not.

“No point in being a hero lad, show ‘em to me an’ we can move on.” The Dwarf raised a brow in frustration as Bilbo continued to look at him in shocked silence. “I am the company healer lad, if you don’t show me your burns I can’t treat ‘em and I won’t be doing my job. Now where does it hurt?” 

Bilbo shook his head as understanding dawned, he should be burnt all over, even if Oin hadn’t seen him crawl out from under the boiling soup pot they all saw his bindings ablaze. 

“Honestly Oin, I am fine but thank you for...”

“Oh, don’t give me that, just because I am old doesn’t mean I am stupid. You are covered in ash and soot; your clothes are in a state and we saw your sack in flames. I may not hear well but I can see just fine. Now show me your wounds before I strip you bear!” Bilbo was about to protest further when Gandalf swooped in to save him the trouble. 

“Good thinking Bilbo, keeping them distracted with that Hobbit trick but best we move on. Those trolls could not have travelled through the day meaning there must be a Troll Horde nearby…” Gandalf kept talking as he steered Bilbo away but the small Hobbit felt the watchful eyes of Oin on his back. He knew this discussion was far from over, and that at some point he’d need to address Kili and what the lad may have witnessed.

However it seemed luck was on the Hobbit’s side as their frantic flight to Rivendell brushed all thoughts of Fireproof Hobbits from the minds of the Dwarves… at least for now.


	4. Falling for you…

“I thought we’d lost our burglar.” Chuckled Dwalin as the large Dwarf patted Bilbo on the shoulder, the small Hobbit was shaking not only with the rain chill but also the fading adrenaline of his near death experience. Air Hobbits were good with heights, water Hobbits with Rain and Earth or Stone Hobbits with Mountains. None of which Bilbo was and he felt miserable, especially at Thorin-foot-in-his-mouth-Oakenshield turned to glare at him. 

“He’s been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us. Dwalin!” If Bilbo had been a more impulsive Hobbit, or less aware of his temper perhaps he would have lashed out or snarked back but as it was he was too cold and too tired to do little more than let Bofur help him up, with an arm loosely wrapped around his shoulders, and follow the Dwarves into a cave. 

Bilbo sighed when he finally sat on the dry ground and Gloin began prepping a fire, he needed to get his body temperate back up lest he fall ill. The fact that Bofur didn’t notice a difference in their temperatures was telling for the small Hobbit, just as much as the quakes that ran through his frame. 

“No, No fires, not in this place. Get some sleep. We start at first light.” Bilbo joined the others in a groan at Thorin’s command but like the others he didn’t plan to disobey, at least not until the Dwarf was asleep.

“We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us. That was the plan.” Balin commented but Bilbo was already bunking down with Bofur beside him, at least until Thorin ruined his new heat source by opening his mouth again. 

“Plans change. Bofur, take the first watch.”

Bilbo was really starting to dislike Thorin Oakenshield, he may be noble and strong but he was also a right arse. With that in mind Bilbo pointedly joined Bofur on his watch, it wasn’t the usual practice but there was no way he’d sleep with the way his teeth were chattering and his blood felt like it was turning to ice. Bilbo brought both his and Bofur’s blankets with him to keep the pair warm as they sat quietly listening to the gentle snores of those around them. When Bilbo was sure everyone was asleep he began to collect the discarded wood from earlier and pile it near their watch spot. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bofur whispered

“Going back to Rivendell.” Bilbo responded sarcastically as he made a show of using Gloin’s discarded flint to make a spark, though he didn’t need it. 

“No, no, you can’t do that. Thorin will be pissed if a member of the company disobeys orders, and you’re part of the Company. You’re one of us.” Bofur whispered, but he shuffled closer to the small flame and the warmth it offered at the blustery entrance of the cave. 

“I’m not though, am I?” Bilbo replied off hand, as he coaxed the fire to grow in strength, “Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins, I don’t know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door.”

“You’re homesick; I understand.” Bofur held out his hands to the fire but Bilbo was too far inside his own thoughts to register the movement or the risk it posed if he let his emotions get out of hand. 

“No, you don’t, you don’t understand! None of you do you’re dwarves. You’re not…” Bilbo paused at the fire leapt up and Bofur pulled back his fingers with a sound of surprise. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t...” Bilbo rushed to inspect Bofur hands but the miner’s thick skin seemed to be uninjured. 

“Why are you sorry lad? t’was my own fault for getting too close…” Bofur gave Bilbo his standard lopsided grin for a moment before it morphed into a look of confusion. “What’s that?”

Bilbo looked around himself, expecting something to be on fire, but at the strange and unfamiliar blue glow at his waist the Hobbit began to unsheathe the sword Gandalf had given him. 

“Oh no” he gasped looking at Bofur even as a mechanical sound filled the cave and Thorin was on his feet shouting. 

“Wake up. Wake up!”

Suddenly they were falling down through the floor, before he can think better of it Bilbo threw a hand out and extinguishes the flames he created and drawing the heat from them even as the embers fell with them and towards the Dwarves. 

They landed heavily in a wooden trap only to be swarmed by Goblins, foul smelling and handsy Goblins. As they were dragged away Bilbo fell to his knees and holding his breath the Goblins passed him by taking the Dwarves with them.

The plan had been to distract the Goblins much as he had the Trolls but as he tried to follow the Goblins he felt the strangest sensation within his chest, an unfamiliar pulling as though something were calling to him. Bilbo turned, just for a moment, but the distraction was all the rogue Goblin needed to pounce onto the Hobbit. They strangled and grappled until studently the ground fell away and Bilbo was falling again, though this time toward the pulling within him. 

X~X~X

Bilbo stared at the tiny band of gold in his hand, such a simple thing and yet he felt something he couldn’t explain. He felt as though there was a wildfire in his hand as he held the small thing. Yet though it seemed to hold the power of flames it boasted none of the comfort he might have gained from such a thing. Bilbo felt drawn to this odd piece of jewellery none the less and slipped it into his pocket to later discover its secrets but for now he needed to find a way back to the Dwarves and avoid whatever it was that had just dragged off the Goblin he’d fallen with. Bilbo shook his still ringing head, drew his small sword and ventured into the dark.


	5. BBQ Warg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yummy...???

Bilbo raised a single brow at the flaming pinecone that was thrust into his hands, he shot the grey Wizard an incredulous look at his distinct lack of subtlety as joined the Dwarves in ‘throwing’ the flaming projectiles at beast below, only when his pinecone hit the flames danced onto the fur of the Warg to scorch both the beast and it’s Orcish rider. Bilbo encourage the flames to form a protective ring around their trees, not too close but close enough to bite back at the Wargs that tried to get to them. It worked until the orcs began to sacrifice their wargs to the flames with the intent of butting the trees over the edge of the cliff, there was nothing Bilbo could do but make sure the wargs only got one chance. However, as the flames grew larger and stronger it became more difficult to control them, to force their power outwards and keep the Dwarves protected. 

Bilbo began to sweat and shake with the strain even as the tree gave way and began to fall causing him to lose his concentration and the fire to surge. The Fire Hobbit cursed silently as he struggled to keep his perch in the tree only to see Thorin stand on his own, Bilbo’s eyes widened as the Dwarf King started forward, towards the flames and the pale Orc beyond them. Without thinking Bilbo threw his hand out and shouted a warning even as he felt the power thrum threw him, as Thorin leapt through the barrier of fire the flames flickered and died. It was just for a second, the time it took to blink and then they were back and Bilbo’s chest was heaving with the steadying breaths he was forcing into his lungs. He didn’t look at the Wizard he knew would be giving him a waning look, nor at the Dwarves he’d come to care for who hung precariously from the branches of the tree around him. His eyes focused only on Thorin and his mad fight against the Pale Orc. 

To call it a fight was to be optimistic, to call it a suicide run was more accurate but made Bilbo’s heart ache painfully, despite how much on an Arse the Dwarf could be. So when he saw Thorin thrown by the white warg to lay unmoving on the ground Bilbo did not consciously decide to rise but he did, he didn’t decide to draw his sword but he did, he did not decide to run to Thorin’s aid but he did and even as he felt the life drain from the Orc beneath him or as he prepared to be struck down were he stood he could not find it in him to regret his actions. 

What he did regret however was leaving their escape plan to a damnable Wizard who held a fondness for put Hobbits in compromising situations, especially Hobbits like Bilbo. So as he was falling through the air, dropped by an oversized pigeon, Bilbo did not scream in terror. No, the furious Hobbit cursed Gandalf with every breath in his body until he smacked into the back of another feathered beast at which point he yelled profanities the wizard couldn’t hear at his smug back. 

Hobbits were not meant to fly, not even Air Hobbits, and by the time they touched ground Bilbo was ready to declare himself an Earth Hobbit for the rest of his days.


	6. Hot and bothered

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!”

Bilbo had never been happier to be berated in his life, he’d seen the fear in Thorin when he’d asked after him and the Hobbit knew his words held no true fire, which was his element after all. 

“Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?” Thorin advanced until he was face to face with Bilbo, The Hobbit was worried that he shouldn’t be walking on his own yet but was surprised when the Dwarf grabbed him and embraced him heavily. 

“I’ve never been so wrong in all my life! I am sorry I doubted you.” Bilbo was so surprised that it took a moment for him to return the embrace and when he didn’t think of the possible consequences or who strange a Dwarf might find his embrace… at least not until Thorin pushed Bilbo away with a look of concern. “Bilbo you’re on Fire.” 

Bilbo looked around worriedly, sure he hadn’t been so careless but he didn’t see any wayward flames as he looked back at the concerned Dwarf, “Thorin, I don’t…” Suddenly a hand was on his forehead only to be swiftly pulled away. 

“Oin, Bilbo is ill. He had a high fever!” Bilbo tried to smile and shake off their concern, tried to explain the situation but the Dwarves were no longer listening. Something Dwarves seemed to be very good at, stone headed fools. 

“Sit down lad, how long have you been burning up? Where you cut by anything? Injured at all?” The healer asked his question so quickly that Bilbo didn’t have a chance to answer, at least not until Gandalf’s tired chuckling brought their attention away from the flustered Hobbit. 

“You do not need to worry about our Hobbit Master Dwarf, he is in fine health.” The Wizard supplied, giving Bilbo the break in conversation he needed to explain. 

“This is my usual temperature, certain Hobbits run hotter than other that’s all. I promise I am fine.” Bilbo placated with his hands up in a defensive manner, the Dwarves gave him a suspicious look but nodded and let the matter go. All except Ori who’d hung up on the word some and a chance to learn more about Hobbits in general. 

Bilbo tried to avoid answering questions regarding their element traits and talents, he still hadn’t told the Dwarves and they didn’t appear to know. It wasn’t a secret per say but it also wasn’t common knowledge that Hobbits had their gifts. There were plenty of ghost stories claiming chatty Hobbits had been stolen in their youths to be used as slaves for their gifts but no Hobbit could actually remember anything of the sort happening nor had it been officially documented in any case ever. Bilbo wasn’t concerned about that though, he was worried that the Dwarves would be disappointed that of all the Hobbits with all talents they got stuck with the most useless to their cause and perhaps the riskiest to their safety. That was not something he wanted to explain to them.


	7. Roasty, toasty Arachnids

Bilbo awoke slowly feeling groggy, sticky and confused with his world spinning. Everything was hazy when the Hobbit opened his eyes, covered in a white film which didn’t make sense to him. At least not until he closed his eyes again and began to focus.

He remembered travelling with his Dwarves, entering the cursed Mirkwood and wandering haplessly once they’d lost the path. Bilbo tried to groan as his stomach twisted violently but his mouth was too dry to let the sound form, his body was burning up and he could feel the sweat rolling down from his temples. Bilbo remembered climbing a tree to help them find their way, erupting into a sea of butterflies and the sunlight he’d missed so much while in the thick of the forest. Shakes started to wrack Bilbo’s small frame but he was restricted in him movements so it was barely noticeable. 

That’s when it came back to Bilbo, coming down from the tree and finding himself alone but not as alone as he could have been. A large, no it went beyond large… a spider almost as large as his great Uncle Bullroarer Took had come up behind him and stung him. Then nothing. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the rest, he was most likely in a web pod being readied for supper. Likely so were the Dwarves, explaining their disappearance. Bilbo’s body was paining him as it tried to process and burn off the toxin, a useful but mostly unneeded talent of those with the Fire trait. 

Bilbo waited and let his body burn off the venom but as the world stopped spinning be became more aware that he was moving, or being moved. Legs slightly elevated Bilbo surmised that he was likely being dragged by the spider that had stung him and if he was going to escape now would be a pretty good time to do so before he became spider bait. 

Taking a deep breath Bilbo focused on his hands, stuck close to his sides within the webbing, and began to rub his fingers together as much as he was able. It took a little time to get enough friction but eventually he could feel the heat and potential to spark, with a little encouragement a flame sprung to life at the edge of each finger. 

Bilbo took another deep breath and held it as the oxygen began to fuel the flames and a rancid smell filled the cocoon. Normally Bilbo would like the smell of burning but this was wrong, this sickly oily smell clung to his nose as the flames ate their way through his bindings. It was slow work at first but once Bilbo broke through to the other side of the webbing he was able to feed the flames and soon not only was the sack on fire but so too was the Spider dragging it across a narrow tree branch. Once free Bilbo heaved a steading breath as he looked around himself, more web pods hung around him and from the various sizes and muffled groans Bilbo deduced them to hold his company.

However, Bilbo paused before rushing to free them, and was later thankful he did, for there was no way a single spider, regardless of it’s ridiculous size, would ever best 13 battle hardened Dwarves even if they were half starved. So, Bilbo Baggins slipped on his ring, his body shuddering at the unearthly chill that radiated through him, and vanished into a world of muted colours and strange noises. He knew he’d have a measure of safety from what was to come but what he hadn’t expected was the voices which filled his ears the moment the ring connected with his skin. 

“Kiilll theemm. Kiill theemm.”

“Eat them now, juicy and runny.”

“Their hide is tough. There is good juice inside.”

“Kill them, kill them now. Let us feast.”

Bilbo watched as the Spiders came down from the trees and surrounded the cocoons, none really noticing the burnt crispy that was once their companion… at least not until Bilbo pushed the charred carcass of the branch and it tumbled noisily to the ground. The spider scattered and chattered as they went in search of the noise, Bilbo made a decision and as best he could he scaled down the tree to the forest floor where the spiders surrounded their fallen kin. 

“What did it…? What burnt? What? Kiillll it, Kiiillll it!” They chattered as Bilbo touched the floor and began to sing the song that all spiders hate. 

“Old fat spider spinning in a tree!  
Old fat spider can’t see me!  
Attercop! Attercop!  
Won't you stop,  
Stop your spinning and look for me!”

As expected the Spiders became enraged and began searching for Bilbo but being invisible had its advantages so the Hobbit ran while making as much noise as possible. 

“Old Tomnoddy, all big body,  
Old Tomnoddy can’t spy me!  
Attercop! Attercop!  
Down you drop!  
You'll never catch me up your tree!”

Bilbo found a good clearing and circled it a few times, leading the Spiders closer while he built up his courage. 

“Lazy Lob and crazy Cob  
are weaving webs to wind me.  
I am far more sweet than other meat,  
but still they cannot find me!”

With a deep breath Bilbo took off his ring and drew his sword, flames in his hand heating the blade.

“Here am I, naughty little fly;  
you are fat and lazy.  
You cannot trap me, though you try,  
in your cobwebs crazy.”

As expected the Spiders swarmed towards Bilbo once he was visible, so the Hobbit began to fight. He did not have the training or experience of a Dwarf but the sword would strike through their hide allowing his flames to burn them from within. Bilbo only needed one good strike to take the creatures out one at a time. 

“It stings! Stings!” They cried as the burnt and curled in on themselves, this gave the Hobbit a good idea for naming his small sword. 

However, the Spiders were not content to be picked off one at a time and soon began swarming Bilbo and surrounding the Hobbit while reading their stingers. Bilbo felt the panic rise within him and was glad he’d pick a spot so far away from the Dwarves that they wouldn’t get caught up in what was to come as his body took over and the flames migrated from his hand.

Soon Bilbo’s entire frame was alight with the burning flames which in turn lashed out at the approaching arachnids. They screeched hideously as the flames struck them and began to burn their tight brown furrish hair, they’d run for cover which only encouraged the flames to spread and before long the entire clearing was in flames with Bilbo and the spider corpses at the centre of it. 

Bilbo’s body was shaking despite the pleasant warmth around him, he’d over exerted himself in a way that he never would have considered before this journey. This quest seemed to be constantly pushing the Hobbit to new limits of his talent and now he sat in the middle of a sick forest watching it burn without the energy to recall the flames. Tales of his youth sounded in his ears of Fire Hobbits losing control, that they weren’t to be trusted with the destruction the could cause and suddenly a part of him understood as he thought of the Dwarves hanging helplessly from branches as they waited to become prey to spiders or flames… which ever would reach them first. 

It was that thought which allowed Bilbo to open his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them, place his hand out before him and drag the flames in. It took everything left in him to extinguish the flames, and he wasn’t completely sure he’d succeeded but as the world tilted and become fuzzy around the edges he knew he’d done everything he could.


	8. Into the Melting pot?

This time Bilbo woke slowly, his body fighting for another moment but his mind kept alerting him that something was wrong. So, with some regret and a disgruntled groan Bilbo opened his eyes only to promptly force them shut once more. 

He was in a room, a dark cold stone room. somewhere he wanted to wake up. There were voices arguing around him, familiar but still not something he particularly wanted to be a part of, but worst of all he was alone. Despite the voices around him Bilbo would feel a distinct lack of warmth which told him that there was no one near him and it scared him. 

Bilbo hadn’t realised until that moment just how reliant he’d become on the Dwarves continued presence and company, how losing that made him feel utterly bereft and melancholy. The Hobbit was about to try and force himself back into the nothingness of sleep when he heard his name called. 

“Bilbo!” It was Bofur’s voice and more than enough to have Bilbo opening his eyes and rising to his feet. “Bilbo’s awake!”

“Do I even want to know where we are?” Bilbo called grumpily as he walked up to the bars of his cell, seemed they were in a dungeon, and looked at the smiling Dwarf across from him before trying to see further down the dim hall. 

“The Elves picked us up a few hours back, saved us from the Spiders only to chuck us in the basement. You’ve been out the entire time, Oin says your body was probably more affected by the spider venom that our… Being a Hobbit ‘n all.” The Dwarf explained, Bilbo just hummed a non-committal sound as he tried to make out who was in the other cells but he couldn’t see much in the poor lighting. 

“Are the others close? I can’t see much of anything in this light…” The Hobbit grumbled but he could see Bofur smile and nod. 

“Aye, all but Thorin. We’re all split up with a few empty cells between but you and I are at the end of the line, our closest neighbours are Oin and Bifur so we don’t get a great deal of info from the others. We know that they took Thorin to Thranduil and us here, anymore than that and your guess is as good as mine.” 

Bilbo nodded and sat down with his back to the bars and began to think, once he’d regained his strength he’d be able to melt the lock mechanisms and get them out but doing so would out him as a Fire Hobbit and would not guarantee them an escape or a way to find Thorin. What he needed was a plan, and a Dwarf King, then he could break them out but neither were forth coming that night. 

X~X~X

His opportunity came a few days later once the Elven guards had set up a routine. Bilbo waited until after supper, when he knew he’d have a few hours between rotations and no one bothering with the quiet, sullen creature in the corner until morning rounds. Bilbo set up his blanket to look as though someone were sleeping and demolished his supper before he used his talent to overheat the metal lock and widen the keyhole on his side of the door enough that his small Hobbit fingers could reach through and flick the lock. This way he’d be able to lock in again on his return and unless they looked closely the Elves would be non-the-wiser. Bilbo had not, however, expected the lock to snap open quite so loudly and alert his neighbours to his new-found freedom. 

“Bilbo!” Bofur exclaimed even as Bilbo began shushing him. 

“Keep it down, don’t alert the Elves” The Hobbit whispered rushing to the other’s cell. 

“How in Mahal’s name did you get out?!” The Dwarf questioned. 

“My cell had a faulty lock,” Bilbo lied “Took me a while to get it to give.” 

“You are our lucky charm Bilbo Baggins!” Bilbo blushed and ducked his head. 

“I’m going to see if I can find us a way out of here, and hopefully find Thorin.” 

“Good thinking,” Bofur smiled but just as Bilbo was about to walk away the Dwarf reached out and grabbed his hand, “Bilbo…Wow, Thorin wasn’t kidding you do run hot…” Bofur chuckled as he released and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

“What is it Bofu...” Bilbo suddenly found himself lifted off the ground in a remarkably tights and equally awkward bear hug, the bars hurt but the Hobbit couldn’t find it in him to mind. 

“Keep safe ya’ hear… and tell Bifur and Bombur I miss them okay?” Bilbo nodded, a lump in his throat, as Bofur released him and realised he needed to speak with the company before he went searching for Thorin. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one suffering from loneliness in this horrid place. 

Bilbo did the rounds and explained his plan to the other Dwarf, he was lifted off the ground so often he began to feel like a Hobbit Hot-water bottle but as the Dwarves teared up with messages for their loved ones and warnings for him the Hobbit just smiled and allowed them their moment of comfort before slipping on his ring and searching for Thorin and a way out.  
Already not 

Bilbo was sure to return to his cell and lock himself back in well before dawn, and after the third day of searching he found Thorin Oakenshield in a cell on the lower levels. On the eighth day, he found their belongings and their way out.


	9. Barrels of fun

Bilbo hated the Elves. He already disliked them for holding he and his friends as prisoners but now he reeeaaallly couldn’t stand them. Not as he felt the floor give way and the small Hobbit began to plummet towards the churning water and the only way out of this forsaken forest. The roar of the rapids filled his ears as the air rushed past him and not for the first time Bilbo wished he was anything other than a Fire Hobbit, the worst swimmers of his kind. Water was his natural enemy and for all that he loved a good scolding soak in a tub he also knew the exact number of second for which he could hold his breath, for the record it wasn’t an impressive number in the least. 

Bilbo closed his eyes and sucked in one last breath as his toes hit the water and he was dragged into the storm beneath the surface, Bilbo tried to struggle to the top and succeeded briefly before he was pulled back down. The Hobbit tried not to panic as he felt the warmth leech from his body, the water was ice cold and quickly draining his strength as he struggled against it. Bilbo broke the surface again and reached desperately for a passing barrel, he wasn’t sure whose it was but he clung to it for dear life even as he slipped the ring over his finger and disappeared into a muted world of harsh greys where the flames within him struggled to remain lit as they tumbled down the river beneath the Elven city towards the town of men and the freedom it promised. 

Bilbo only slipped the ring from his finger as the rapids began to slow and the threat had passed, his head hung heavily against the chilled wood of the barrel as the Dwarves began to break free of their wooden prisons. Several began to complain about their mode of transport and associated smells while others cheered their apparent success but all attempted to steer their barrels towards the relative safety of the shore. It was then that Bilbo found out he was attached to Dwalin’s barrel, strong and protective Dwalin didn’t need weak Hobbit help in steering his barrel and so Bilbo focused on staying awake and the flickering flame within. 

Before he knew it, Bilbo was being pried off the side of the barrel by sturdy calloused hands and deposited on the gravelly lakebed; with a teeth chattering sigh of relief at being away from the water Bilbo curled in on himself and tried to conserve the rest of his strength even as he heard Thorin barking orders to the company. Bilbo wasn’t paying attention, not that anyone really was at this point, but he didn’t miss the large hand that stroked through his hair. It was hard to miss when the hand was so deliciously warm that Bilbo reached out and refused to release it. 

“Oin you’d best come take a look at our Hobbit, something doesn’t seem right.” Bilbo only half heard Dwalin’s words as the large Dwarf tugged uselessly for his captured hand which Bilbo had begun to nuzzle. 

The healer stomped his soggy way over to the equally waterlogged Hobbit and took in the quaking of his small frame, the bluish tinge to his skin and the way he grasped at Dwalin’s arm before he stuck his own hand out and felt the lad’s temperature. For a Dwarf it was low but for the usually feverish Hobbit it was an extreme which pushed Oin into action. Immediately he began to strip the shaking creature down to his smalls and shouted at the others to get a fire started, it was accomplished quick enough considering the lack of materials but even as Oin held Bilbo close to his own stripped chest to share body heat he worried for the lad, especially as he struggled to get closer to the heat of the flames. 

It only took a momentary distraction on the healer’s part however, caused by the sudden appearance of a Man with a bow trained on whichever member of the company had the joy of catching his eye, for Bilbo to tip out of the Dwarf’s lax hold and fall forward enough for his arm to land within the nearby flames. Oin grabbed the Hobbit and despite his struggles, and the Bow now trained on him, took Bilbo back to the banks of the river and tried to bath his arm in the chilled water. The more he tried to wash the skin however the more the shivering, delirious Hobbit struggled until he fell out of Oin’s arms completely and back into the freezing water with a dreadful whine. 

Oin swore low under his breath, apparently not low enough though judging by the astonished looks from nearby members of the company, washed the flailing Hobbit’s arm in the shallow water before returning them both to the fireside but this time with a much stronger grip on the smaller creature. 

Apparently, it was later explained to him, he’d interrupted some kind of negotiation but seeing Bilbo so sickly had helped their cause in procuring transport to Laketown. With help from the others in the company Oin wrapped Bilbo in what dry clothes they had to keep him warm during the trip but the healer was worried about the burn that had yet to form on the Hobbit’s arm and his constant shaking but he could do a lot more to treat the lad with medicine and a warm bed in Laketown than out on the lake bed with Orcs and Elves breathing down their necks. He’d just have to hope the lad’s iron will held out a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god... I have just written the final chapter for this story.... this isn't it and you've still got another 7 chapters to go.... but I'm kinda freaking out... I don't know what to do with my life... I have... no current story!!!! 
> 
> So if you have a preference for one of my other storied continued or something let me know... I feel lost!


	10. The strangeness of Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laketown with the Dwarves

By the time the company arrived at Bard’s home they’d been doused with fish, dropped into the lake and travelled through sewage. To say they were not at their best was an understatement but worst of all was the small Hobbit. The moment they were in the relative safety of the Bowman’s home Oin was again examining the small shaking creature, who’d begun to babble nonsense. Fear gripped the company of Thorin Oakenshield though they tried not to show it and kept their distance, Thorin stood vigil at the window staring out at the Mountain as the others pretended to be occupied with other endeavours. Gloin acted as assistant to his brother as the healer attempted to warm the Hobbit, Bard’s youngest children openly gawking at the sick Hobbit while their elder system chided them and attempted to make supper with Dori’s help. Bifur sat whittling nervously with his cousin’s either side of him while the others milled around. Bilbo had gone downhill and they were worried, the small Hobbit had body quaking chills, he was worryingly cool to touch and his skin was clammy and pale. Oin muttered infrequently to himself about the strangeness of Hobbits and their associated illnesses as nothing he tried seemed to make a difference.

Though the healer was immensely relieved that the Hobbit’s arm remained clear of damage from the fire, he didn’t believe the lad would have it in him to fight off any infections, considering their methods of entering the town it had not been a matter of if. However, when the Hobbit began coughing, a wet hacking, gurgling sound Oin knew it had taken a turn for the worse. 

It wasn’t long after the coughing showed that they were discovered by the Master of Laketown, which Oin felt was for the best as it then allowed them to walk the streets openly and gave him access to more medicine and blankets. They were given lodging in an unused house near the Master’s own and though Thorin had to schmooze with the bloated, self-important excuse of a leader Oin was blissfully left to his own devises which gave him more time with his patient. Bilbo was given his own room while the others shared, his coughing would have destroyed any attempts at a full night’s sleep and Oin was still unsure as to whether the illness was contagious or not. The risk wasn’t worth it. 

Bilbo spent little of his time conscious at this point, though he still babbled absently through his dreams. If not for the lack of heat Oin would have called him fever plagued but perhaps Hobbit suffered cold fevers, the healer wished he’d thought to ask Bilbo more about his race and the potential illness which plagued them. Though in truth he hadn’t thought there were that many differences between their kinds that he’d need to worry. 

At this point, though, all he could do was give the Hobbit water and broth to keep up his strength, keep the hearth burning and the blankets piled high and hope for the best. Mahal willing it would be enough. 

X~X~X 

I was late in the evening when Bilbo finally woke, the room was dark and a shadow sat slumped on a chair in the corner. The room was silent bar for the sound of the roaring fire and his own wheezing, laboured breath. Bilbo could feel the foreign fluid within his chest, sitting heavily with every breath he took. Head pounding, body aching Bilbo knew what he needed. The Hobbit slipped from the bed on silent feet, almost collapsing to the ground due to unexpected weakness in his legs but Bilbo stayed upright due to his death grip on the sheets of the oversized bed.

Groggy and weak Bilbo shuffled over to the hearth, the chill slowly beginning to ebb the closer he got until he was standing within them and he could feel the heath clearing his lungs. With a relaxed sigh Bilbo sat down, ignoring the way his small clothes singed, burned and eventually disintegrated on him as he curled up in the centre of the fire a let the flames work their magic and burn the sickness away. The Hobbit was so absorbed in the comfort and relief offered by the fire that he did not notice the figure in the corner was no longer slumped or the wide eyes which watched him in a mixture of horror and fascination. 

Though when the flames finally burned themselves out and the Hobbit was sleeping more soundly than he had in almost a week the Dwarf picked up the exhausted Hobbit, wiped away the soot which covered him and placed him back in bed before working at relighting the blaze. 

The strangeness of Hobbits indeed.


	11. The heat of the moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erebor... Also pretty sure my longest chapter to date... enjoy!

Bilbo looked down at the amassed fortune before him, there was enough money here to comfortably feed the Shire for the rest of the age. However, there was also a Fire Drake somewhere within this room to contend with. 

Bilbo didn’t need to be a Grower to know the Dragon was still alive, he could feel the heat of his internal flame within the air. The comforting sensation of finding a kindred spirit rocked through his body, though the irony was not lost on the Hobbit. Bilbo wondered briefly if a Dragon had similar traits to a Hobbit but perhaps more than one; the Hobbit had briefly met a few Stone Hobbits in his past, enough to suspect the Golem creature was similarly cursed, and had seen the way they could become fixated on a particular stone, mineral or metal. In a strange way, it made sense to Bilbo but if that was the case he was unsure how he would manage to sneak a single stone out of the hoard. 

The Dragon’s fire held little concern for Bilbo, he’d never feared the flames in his life and failed to understand how others could mistake their beauty and elegance for aggression or destruction. Though nor did he know the strength of Dragon fire and perhaps he should have given more thought to the Dwarves warnings. Bilbo did, however, fear the likelihood of exceptionally large teeth and talons ripping him to shreds. Bilbo Baggins may be Fire Proof, as far as he knew at least, but he was not indestructible by any stretch of the imagination. 

The Hobbit took a deep breath before descending the stairs into the treasury; even the air was pleasantly warm to him, meaning that had he been another Hobbit he should have been sweating with the pressure of it. Bilbo’s thick soled feet touched the glistening metal and the hobbit began to understand perhaps why Gandalf had chosen him for this journey, aside from the obvious fact that no other Hobbit would have been stupid enough to bother… As he lowered his food towards the treasure Bilbo had expected the coins to clink and fall away, perhaps even making a loud enough noise to bring the Dragon’s attention. Instead the gold sunk beneath him like chocolate left out in the sun, it had kept its shape until the weight of his body made it give way and return to a liquid form. Bilbo sunk into the molten gold and tried to stay silent, it was a divine warmth that surrounded him and suddenly he knew where the Drake would be and why he hadn’t been seen in so long. Despite this heavenly comfort Bilbo clung to his resolve to keep focused and began to trudge, almost swim, through the thick heated sludge picking at the stones and foreign object which came his way. 

The intense heat, something only a Fire talent would have been able to cope with, had softened and melted the gold but stones and certain other metals remained solid enough for Bilbo to examine them. The problem lay however in the sheer distance to cover and the dragon slumbering in the centre of it. Even if Bilbo spent the next hundred years swimming through the slush there was no guarantee of finding the Arkenstone, and should he find it he was still unsure how exactly was that going to help them defeat a so far thankfully lazy fire drake. 

Pushing the cynical thoughts from his mind Bilbo continued his search until he felt something solid brush his foot. The molten gold was thick enough to support his weight so that he didn’t sink too far but he was already covered to his stomach with no real wish to delve further lest he get stuck. Bilbo probed the object with his foot to try and get a feel of it, but the molten metal made everything warm and deceptively smooth. Bilbo quickly dismissed it as a possibility for the Arkenstone when the surface curved up instead of down into an Oval. The Hobbit prepared to move on when the gold around him shifted and the surface he’d been exploring suddenly became a platform on which he was raised from the treasure. The chill of the air compared to the warmth of the gold hit Bilbo harder than he expected, especially when one noted the considerable heat of the air but as the gold rained down around him Bilbo suddenly realised what he’d foolishly been exploring with his foot. The fire Hobbit didn’t know about Dragon etiquette but amongst Hobbits or even Dwarves he couldn’t have been imagined he’d be popular after kicking and walking over someone’s nose. 

A great growling yawn filled the cavernous treasury as Bilbo was lifted higher still before being dropped down as the dragon’s massive maw snapped shut. Bilbo should have guessed that the Dragon’s head would be closer to the surface than the rest of him; it was no different to Bilbo keeping his head above the water in the bath. 

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’ Bilbo scolded himself as he waited for his inevitable demise, brushing what he could of the slowly hardening gold from his body. If he was going to die he might as well be comfortable. 

“What a poor thief you are, to be caught so easily” Grumbled the sleepy Fire Drake, the movement causing Bilbo to lose his footing and fall onto his backside on the Dragon’s nose. “Come now don’t be shy, mmm there is something about you… something familiar. What manner of creature are you thief that you remind me of my kin. You even carry with you gold, not of my hoard yet remarkably Precious.”

Bilbo felt a shudder of dread run through him at the mention of the Ring, he still had it hidden in his pocket but after Mirkwood the Hobbit refused to use it unless the situation was dire. The way it drained him and weakened him caused him to fear its extended use. 

“I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy. I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them, that one could be as glorious as you.”

“And, do you now?!!!” The Dragon exclaimed, pulling his form from the glittering gold to float above it with an air of arrogance.

“Truly, the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous.”

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” Smaug questioned

“No- no, no. I had only hoped, O great Fire Wielder to see your flames for myself and to perhaps learn your craft from you.”

“My craft, indeed. It is much you ask little thief, with giving naught in return. You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?” There was a silkiness to his tone that set Bilbo on edge yet suddenly the thoughts of the Arkenstone were gone as he suddenly realised he had the full attention of perhaps the only creature to understand his talent and teach him what its true nature could be. 

“I am the fire sleeper… and he who walks through coals” 

“Impressive. What else do you claim to be?” Coaxed the Fire Drake. 

“I am... luck-wearer. Riddle-maker.”

“Lovely titles; go on.”

“Flame-heart, I am he who cannot burn…”

“Cannot burn? I beg to differ little one. My flames can destroy anything and once your little Dwarf friends show up I will be happy to prove it to you.” Chuckled the Drake

“Dw- Dwarves? No, no, no dwarves here. You’ve got that all wrong.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, flame-heart. They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside.”

“Truly, you are mistaken, O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of calamities.” Bilbo began to panic, he couldn’t run while he was still perched on the great beast’s snout. 

“You have nice manners...for a thief and a liar! I know the smell and taste of dwarf. No one better. It is the gold! They are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh.”

Smaug began to wade through the liquid treasure dramatically, the movements of his body making Bilbo cling to his scales. 

“Did you think I did not know this day would come, when a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?!” He declared with ferocious intensity. “The King under the mountain is dead. I took his throne. I ate his people like a wolf among sheep.”

Bilbo felt it as the temperature spiked and with a sharp flick of Smaug’s head Bilbo was flying through the air and crashing into the molten gold, probably the only reason he didn’t perish from the impact. 

“I kill where I wish, when I wish. My armour is iron. No blade can pierce me! It’s Oakenshield. That filthy Dwarvish usurper! He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn’t he?”

Smaug advanced towards Bilbo and he could feel the power swelling within the Dragon, the fire curling within his chest even as he saw movement behind him from the corner of his eye. 

“No, no, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Was all Bilbo could stutter as he realised one of the Dwarves had snuck in after him, he began to purposely limp away from the stairs he’d fallen near which had been his only escape route. Bilbo didn’t know if he’d survive dragon fire or not but he knew a Dwarf couldn’t.

“You have been used, thief in the shadows. You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth nothing.”

“No. No. No, you’re lying!” Bilbo denied but a weight dropped in his chest, Thorin hadn’t been the same since Mirkwood but he’d also never been particularly kind to Bilbo so the Hobbit’s insecurities could grab at the idea and fuel the flames of Smaug’s hateful words. 

“What did he promise you? A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it. That is why it can no longer be distinguished one piece from another, it is all mine in a single entity”

Bilbo continued to pull the Dragon’s raging attention away from the hidden Dwarf until Smaug’s back was to the stairs. 

“My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! My wings are a hurricane!”

As Smaug lifted and displayed his wings, Bilbo noticed a scale missing on the left side of the Drakes chest and whispered to himself. “So, it is true. The black arrow found its mark.”

“What did you say??” Snapped the beast, brought from his ranting by Bilbo’s stray remark. 

“Uh, uh, I was just saying your reputation precedes you, oh Smaug the tyrannical. Truly, you have no equal on this earth.”

As Bilbo spoke, he slowly backed away until of course his foot caught on something and sent him tipping back into the sludge. Bilbo looked at what caused his fall and beside his foot was a stone unlike any other. He knew it at once to be the Arkenstone.

“I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer, watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad. But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So tell me, thief, how do you choose to die? Shall we see if you truly are fireproof?”

Smaug’s chest began to glow with the power Bilbo had felt him building for some time, as his jaws opened wide the Hobbit looked behind him at where the Dwarf was hiding and his eyes locked with Thorin’s. Suddenly the air around his fizzled and sparked and Smaug was releasing his flame. Bilbo swore he heard Thorin call out his name before the world was swallowed by the roar of the flames and the brightest light he’d even seen. 

‘So this is Dragon flame’ Bilbo thought before his mind knew nothing but the heat and strength of it. 

 


	12. Burning Impatience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA: What they Dwarves were up to while Bilbo was busy with Smaug…

Once Balin returned from walking Bilbo into the Mountain a tense silence fell on the company, none wanted to say aloud what they all feared lest the bring misfortune upon themselves. 

Dori settled himself to fussing over a vacant Ori, while Nori watched over them from as close to the door as he dared. Fili and Kili sat at the edge of their clearing leaning into each other for comfort. Bifur simply whittled but his kin saw the slight tremor in his hands which betrayed him and Thorin paced. 

Thorin paced even as Dwalin stood vigil at the door and Balin tried to reason with him yet on the vacant king paced, eventually they began to mark time by his laps and progress until a shuddering in the ground below them and a wave of heat from the tunnel drew their attention. 

“It seems the Dragon is alive and awake…” Balin said solemnly as they watched and eerie orange glow come through the opening of the door. 

“What about Bilbo?” Ori exclaimed, clinging tightly to his brother. 

“Give him more time.” Thorin declared, resuming his circuit. 

“Time to do what? To be killed?” Balin barked, causing Thorin to pause and look at his long-time adviser and friend. 

“You’re afraid.”

“Yes, I’m afraid.” Balin whispered harshly as he approached Thorin, “I fear for YOU. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard, a sickness that drove your grandfather mad.”

“I am not my grandfather.”

“You’re not yourself. The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there-”

“I will not risk this quest for the life of one burglar.” Thorin interrupted 

“Bilbo. His name is Bilbo.” Balin spat with disgust

Thorin looks contemplatively out into the night before nodding and striding to the door. 

“Thorin what are you doing?” Dwalin shouted, even though he knew the answer. 

“Balin is right, I must check on Bilbo. You stay here, I will return.” They all knew better than to argue as Thorin strode off and the air grew thicker still. 

Not a word was spoken amongst the company until Thorin returned following a great roar which shook the mountain. The King’s boots thumped against the smooth stone of the tunnel, his breath came in ragged gasps as sweat ran down his skin. The company didn’t need to hear the words, they could tell from the pale and broken look on Thorin’s face. 

“The Hobbit it dead.” 

Ori collapsed into his brothers’ waiting arms, Fili and Kili held each other but said nothing while the others waited. 

“Are ye’ sure? What happened?” Dwalin prompted, he did not doubt his long-time friend but Thorin had not been himself and fear can make fools of even the most steadfast Dwarrow. 

“Aye I’m sure, the Dragon is alive and well. Master Baggins didn’t stand a chance; he had the Arkenstone at his feet even as he perished. We were so close”

“How?” Whispered Kili, coming to his feet and shaking off his brother’s comforting and restraining arms. “How can that be all you think of when Bilbo is gone forever, when this damn quest has cost a good Hobbit his life all you can think of it that stupid stone.”

“Kili…” The young Prince’s tirade was silenced as his brother drew him into his arms and held the young Dwarf close as he began to weep, his Uncle looked horrified but at his words or his tears neither knew. 

“Is there a body? Something we can bury or return to his kin?” Gloin asked, they’d seen much death and loss in their time but it was always easier to break the news to family if there was a grave to visit or memento to hold on to. 

Thorin shook his head, eyes still on his nephews though he knew what Gloin was hoping for. “He fell to the flames, there will be nothing left of our Hobbit.”

“But did you see him Perish?” Bofur asked, breaking the grave silence which fell and regretting his comments at Bagend regarding furnaces and flesh melting from bones as the images filled his mind. “Smaug may have missed; he might only be injured…” 

The ground shook with another great roar and the conversation paused for a moment in tense silence however the stone continued to rumble and roars ripped through the air periodically. 

“He took the flame dead on, no one could survive that.” Thorin explained, his chest aching with the image burned into the back of his eyes. 

“He could still be alive…” 

Silence fell and all eyes turned to the unlikely voice of hope. 

“What are you saying Nori?” Ori’s voice was small but his brother smiled down at him. 

“He’s a tough one our Hobbit, and suspiciously flame retardant…” 

“Nori…” Dwalin growled in warning

“No he’s right!” Kili squeaked, his tears stemming and his face brightening. “I saw him back at the Trolls. I thought I’d been imagining things but he crawled through the fire under the cooking pot and came out without a mark! Bilbo could still be alive, Oin you checked him after his arm fell in the fire… did he burn?”

“No Lad, he didn’t… but his arm was only in the flame for a moment and by no means was it Dragon fire. Even if his skin was thicker than most it does not mean he’s survived. Nori should not have got ye’ hopes up.”

“Oh ye of little faith…” Came a small voice from behind them. 

The company turned as one to the small figure standing in the doorway, a familiar figure covered in naught but ash, dripping gold and his curly hobbit hair. Though with the previously unseen addition of gold ring hanging from a chain around his neck, a chain which the Hobbit had pilfered on his exit from the treasury. 

Bilbo gave the disbelieving Dwarves a crooked smile as he leaned heavily against the wall of the tunnel, his body both exhausted and awake in ways he’d never felt before. 

“Bilbo!” Came the unanimous cry but the Hobbit had to hold up his hands to keep the younger Dwarves from embracing him.

“Best not, I’m still a bit on the scolding side. Don’t know how hot you Dwarves can handle. You lot should come in and close that door, Smaug is sulking right now but if he decides to look for you you’re sitting Dwarves out there.”

The Dwarves nodded wearily but entered the tunnel after Bilbo. 

“Lad, what if he simply decides to smoke us out. Those flames of his can travel might far when they need to.” Balin asked as he watched Bilbo sink wearily to the ground, the old Dwarf Shucked off his cloak and held it out to the young, nude Hobbit. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo smiled and accepted the cloth, trying to ignore the looks he was receiving from the Dwarves. “If he tries that I will handle it but I don’t think he will he’s not stupid, he knows it didn’t work the first time which means it’s unlikely to work this time. For now, I need rest and besides I’m sure you all have some questions you’re dying to ask though…” 

Bilbo leant his head back against the cool stone as the stone reverberated the cacophony of voices around him, he knew they’d all start speaking at once but instead of being irritating it was soothing in its own way. At least they were still speaking to him and not running as he’d once suspected. 

In the end, all it took was Thorin holding up a hand and the sound disappeared, Thorin Oakenshield was ever in control. 

“How is this possible? I saw you perish.” 

Bilbo hefted a sigh “That is not a simple answer, best you all get comfortable.” The Hobbit waited and once the door was closed and the Dwarves comfortably seated Bilbo looked around the dark tunnel. With the door closed there was little light bar the ever-emanating glow from further down the tunnel, Bilbo knew that even with their good night vision some of the Dwarves would have difficulty seeing him in the dim light so the Hobbit decided that seeing would have to be believing. 

Bilbo put his palms together and felt the heat between them, he rubbed them softly until the friction created a spark which he fuelled into a flame. It didn’t take much with the residual heat from the dragon fire and Bilbo was holding a small flame within his hands, he heard the Dwarves gasp but his attention was on the flickering light within his palms which he fuelled and fed until it was a solid orb between his hands which lit up the tunnel. 

“I do not recommend touching it, the flames are a real as you and I, but this should afford us some light and a bit of heat. You’ve seen me do much the same before, back with the Trolls but I did not explain it correctly then. Gandalf referred to it as a Hobbit trick and in a way, he was correct but as with Gandalf, nothing is ever so simple.” 

Bilbo gave the quiet Dwarves a gentle smile before continuing, casually manipulating the flame into differed shapes and patterns.

“Hobbits have been gifted with certain talents, traits which connect us to the elements and Yvanna’s gifts. There are several gifts and as I am sure you can guess mine is Fire. I cannot create a flame within me like Smaug can but I am able to coax one to life using friction on my skin, as I have done now and back with the Trolls. It’s even how I managed to get loose in Mirkwood, both from the Spiders and the Elves.” 

“I had wondered about that!” Bofur exclaimed 

“I am also, generally speaking, fire proof. Though until now I had no idea of the extent, after all in Hobbit society I am not allowed to use my talent or explore its limitations. When I felt Smaug building his flames I fully expected to die, I’m honestly not sure who was more surprised… me or him…” Bilbo chuckled at the look of Horror on the Fire Drake’s face. 

“Why didn’t you tell us Bilbo?” Ori’s voice was pleading and Bilbo felt for the young scholar. 

“Because I was afraid. Fire Trait Hobbits are not allowed to practice because there is a chance of us losing control, there are so few of us that no one is entirely sure how our talent works and if it gets out of hand we can hurt people. I didn’t want to put you all at risk, especially when I had no idea if my trait would even be useful. I know better now though, the reason I believe Gandalf chose me is not because I may or may not have been able to withstand the dragon fire but that the entire treasury has been melted.” Bilbo indicated to his legs using the flames in his hands, the dried gold sparkling.

“How is that possible?” Gloin voiced the grumblings of the rest of the company. 

“The way I understand it is that being a fire trait I have a higher temperature to endure the heat within me, this is also what makes me fire proof. I believe it to be much the same with Smaug but being a dragon who’d flames burn internally his temperature is much higher than my own and the gold melted accordingly giving him a kind of golden mud bath to rest in. 

“Being the way I am meant I was able to move through the liquid gold without being scolded, I do not believe it is wise for any of you to enter the treasury until it cools. Thorin should be able to explain the heat in the room better than I can…”

“Aye, t’was a bloody furnace in there and Bilbo was sinking into the sludge when I saw him.”

“The what are we supposed to do? Give up?” Bilbo had expected the comment from one of the younger Dwarves, not Dwalin but he supposed the warrior was not used to being backed into a corner. 

“We cannot fight fire with fire, Smaug may not be able to roast me but he can still eat me well enough. Short of bringing in enough water to solidify the mass of molten gold with him still inside of it and allowing him to slowly drown, which is a cruel fate for fire traits, I would recommend we negotiate with him.” 

“NEGOTIATE?!” The Dwarves, or most of them, exploded at once. 

“This is our home, why should be barter for its return?” Thorin demanded and Bilbo looked at him like he would his young cousin Drogo when the lad got particularly stone headed. 

“Because it is the only way to get it back. Thorin what is more important to you right now? Your ancestral home within this mountain or the molten sludge which Smaug bathes in?” Bilbo didn’t like the way Thorin paused before answering. 

“… My home, clearly” 

“Then work with me, Smaug wants his treasure let him have it. There will be more than enough in the mines to get Erebor back on its feet. Give the Drake a different home, one less accessible to your people…”

“You don’t mean…”

“Exactly Balin, offer Smaug Moria and allow him to take his hoard. You get your Kingdom back, he destroys the Orcs living there and eventually perhaps a bargain may be struck between you for access to the mines there in exchange for payment. It is the only way I see us all making it out of here alive.”

“Or we could simply kill the beast!” A cheer arose from the company and Thorin’s plan. 

“And how do you intend to do that?” 

“With the Arkenstone, we will…” 

“Thorin, there is no more Arkenstone. I may not have perished to the Dragon fire but it and a great deal more did.”

Silence fell and Bilbo sighed before standing, “I am going to return to the treasury, Smaug has quietened down enough that I might be able to talk to the giant Drama Queen. Think on what I’ve suggested.” Bilbo handed Balin his cloak back with a nod and set the light down on the ground to slowly fizzle out as he walked back to the Dragon.   
 


	13. Unlucky for some…

Once he’d calmed down, and woken up more, Bilbo found Smaug to be an interesting if not vain and overly dramatic creature. The Fire Drake held a view on the world which was uniquely his own and though he had failed to notice Bilbo’s short absence to notify the Dwarves the Dragon seemed oddly glad for the company. Mostly Bilbo just sat and listened to the Dragon rant on about this or that, other times he asked questions to which the creature would scoff at and proceed to answer as though it were the simplest thing on Middle Earth and Bilbo the only creature to have missed the notice. 

At least until Bilbo brought up the idea of moving. 

“And Why exactly would I want to do that?” Smaug questioned, her serpentine neck arching before lowering so he could better view the small, possibly mad, creature before him. 

“Well why not? You have no real ties to this particular mountain. No one is currently living there, no one is looking for you there. No thieves to take your treasure or Dwarves to try and take it from you. It’s under the Misty Mountains so much quieter and warmer with new, unknown treasures to add to your collection…” 

“The idea is tempting Little Flame, yet I do not think the bargain is within your power to strike.” Smaug lifted his head and pushed Bilbo with his snout. 

“Ahh yes, there you are right” The Dragon scoffed as though indicating he was ever anything else was positively ludicrous, “But I have put the same idea forward to those who can make such a deal, so hopefully you might all discuss it sensibly together and we can all get on with our lives.” 

“And what an interesting life you will have Little one, once you understand the burdens you carry.” 

“Burdens?” Bilbo asked but Smaug was already diving beneath the surface of the gold, his body disappearing like some kind of sea serpent and yet Bilbo could still hear him. 

“Your Dwarves approach, three of them. Shall I eat them Little Flame? I know that Dwarves burn…” Smaug laughed as he swam in circles within the gold, Bilbo waded his way through the molten gold until he was back at the stairs and he could see the Dwarves standing with sweat rolling down their faces. 

“Bloody flamin’ hell you weren’t kidding about this place.” Dwalin swiped a meaty fist over his forehead at he smirked at Bilbo. “Still can’t believe you can’t feel this.” 

“I can feel it,” Bilbo corrected “But for me this is pleasant, why do you think I usually wear so many layers?” 

“We’d always suspected Hobbit manners and propriety. Now Bilbo we’ve considered your words and Thorin is ready to have a discussion with Smaug.” Smiled Balin and Bilbo’s heart leapt. They were willing to talk!

“Well he’s skulking around here somewhere…” Bilbo didn’t get to finish he sentence as he felt the flames building behind him, jumping onto the steps Bilbo pushed the Dwarves down and with his hands out he pushed back against the projectile. Once the fire had left Smaug it was no longer his, it was simply following the path set for it, that meant Bilbo was able to intervene and redirect it or sometimes stop it. This time he sent it right back at the snickering snake so it hit him, harmlessly, in his snout which caused him to sneeze. 

“That was rude and childish!” He snapped as he turned to help the Dwarves up but thought better of it once he saw the steam coming off his hands. 

“Peace Little Flame, I knew you would stop it.” Smaug was now floating just under the gold with his head out of the muck staring at them. “The Dwarves would have been too on edge without proof that I cannot get through you to them, now they have peace of mind.” 

Behind him the Dwarves were on their feet glaring, except for Balin, at the Drake as Bilbo stood with his hands on his hips, but though he loath to admit it some of the tension had left their frames in seeing Bilbo redirect the flames. 

So, the small Hobbit stood between the parties as they struck their bargain. Smaug was only interested in his gold, gems and other metals held little interest for him so he would leave the Lonely Mountain for the city of Moria within the Mist Mountains. The Dwarves would separate the gold from the gems and send them through to the Dragon, along with 10% of all new mined gold for the next decade. Smaug agreed to leave peacefully without tormenting Dwarves or Men… no one specified Elves one way or the other… and Thorin agreed Noria would become off limits to Dwarves until the day Smaug chose to leave of his own accord. The treaty was struck and with permission Thorin and Balin crossed the treasury using the high walks to send a raven to Laketown explaining as much. This was when Smaug leaned in and brushed his nose once again to Bilbo’s frame. 

“I do not make this bargain with them Little Flame, but with you. I know that the fire within you in Honest and Pure, I expect you to ensure they keep their word.” Bilbo nodded “Come with the first caravan bringing my hoard and I will fulfil your request.” 

Bilbo looked at the dragon in confusion before it dawned on him and a smile lit the Hobbit’s face. 

“I will teach you what I can Little Flame, but the rest is up to your will and the spark within you.” With that the dragon began to beat his wings, despite the gold dripping from his scaled the Dragon rose gracefully into the air and began looping around the treasury before following his old paths of destruction to find his way out. Bilbo ran as fast as he could and soon found himself on an old rampart overlooking that planes of Erebor and Laketown. Bilbo watched Smaug fly around the mountain a few times, his lither body twisting, stretching and curling. The Fire Drake released beautiful displays of his fire into the night sky and Bilbo recognised that he was showing off, it only made him smile more. Once enough time had passed and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Raven had arrived at Laketown to head the warning, Smaug began to fly towards the town and then over to the West and his new home. 

Bilbo watched his flight with rapt attention, that was why he saw the sharp movement which indicated something was wrong. The frantic clawing then the hitch in those strong sturdy wing motions before suddenly Smaug was falling towards the Lake. Bilbo heard the rush of blood in his ears, felt a familiar aching burn of loss before his body was alight with the rage and pain within him. Tears rose to his eyes but turned to steam well before they could fall as Bilbo lost control, just for a moment, as his guilt swallowed him only the be replace by the aching loneliness of losing the one creature who might understand the fire within him and its truth.


	14. Simmering beneath the surface.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry...

To say the Dwarves shared Bilbo’s grief was a flat out lie, in fact Bilbo would day he’d never seen them happier for now they had their mountain and their gold too. The Hobbit found it hard to look at them, any of them, and found himself pleased that they were unable to fully revel in their riches due to the solid mass it had become now that Smaug was gone. Despite that they Dwarves took every opportunity they had to gaze upon the shimmering lump and stroke it lovingly, discussing how they might begin to break it down but what a tragedy it would be to destroy. 

Even after the Ravens brought news of the upcoming armies and Bilbo noted their own shortages of food there was little that could sway the Dwarves from their treasure until the armies came knocking. Rows upon rows and Elves in shining armour standing beside Men in rags. The company had assembled upon the old ramparts near the front gates and their hastily built blockade. Bilbo stood on the ramparts apart from the Dwarves in old clothes he’d scavenged from dusty rooms of Dwarves long dead, the company either didn’t notice or care about his liberation of the dusty and mostly decrepit clothes. 

“Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.” Called Bard atop a borrowed horse, “Your note regarding the dragon’s approach was well met in good time, though some still fled from the town.” Thorin nodded and Bilbo stood confused looking between them from his position behind the company. 

“Why do you come to the gates of the king under the mountain armed for war?”

“Why does the king under the mountain fence himself in? Like a robber in his hole.”

“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.” Thorin spat

“My lord We have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”

Thorin nodded and followed the stairs down to the blockade and speaks to Bard through a small hole. 

“I’m listening.”

“On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honour your pledge. A share of the treasure  
so that they might rebuild their lives in Dale as we had discussed, bring prosperity back to our people.”

“I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door.”

“That armed host will attack this mountain, if we do not come to terms.”

“Your threats do not sway me.”

“What of your conscience? Does it not tell you our cause is just, that our ends are the same?! My people offered you help and brought down your greatest foe which now lays rotting in the lake, tainting our water supplies!”

“When did the men of Laketown come to our aid, but for the promise of rich reward?!”

“A bargain was struck!”

“A bargain? What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To  
ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade? Tell me, Bard the  
Dragonslayer…Why should I honour such terms?”

“Because you gave us your word. Does that mean nothing?” Bard called but Thorin was already gone. 

Bilbo looked at Thorin with disappointment and horror “What are you doing? You cannot go to war.”

“This does not concern you.”

“Excuse me?!” Bilbo felt the cold anger which had been burning in him spark, “But just in case you haven’t noticed, there is an army of elves out there. And not to mention several hundred angry fishermen. We are in fact outnumbered, out matched and out of food.”

Thorin turned back to Bilbo and smiled, it was not a friendly thing and the Hobbit would much rather be facing Smaug for the first time than this Dwarf. This was not the Thorin he’d come to know over the journey. 

“Not for much longer.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Master Baggins, you should never underestimate dwarves.” Thorin turned to the company and addressed them as a whole, arms open wide and a look of fierce determination and reckless abandon on his features. “We have reclaimed Erebor Now we defend it!”

Thorin strode away and the company followed him, Bilbo stayed and watched them go first to the armoury searching for weapons then eventually they wandered back to the gold and Bilbo’s heart sank further. The Hobbit left them to their gold and instead he returned to the battlements and sat, watching the armies bustle around the mountain and thinking how different it could have been. 

It was hours later, when the sun had fallen and Bilbo was watching flames he created dance along the stone that Thorin found him, or more accurately summoned him. 

“Master Baggins, come here!” With a sigh Bilbo let the flames perish and stands, he brushes himself off and with a quick ttretch he walks to where the King stands at the bottom of the stairs holding a tunic of some kind of white metal. “You are going to need this. Put it on.”

Bilbo raised a brow but knew better than to argue as he began to undress. 

“This vest is made of silver steel “Mithril” it was called by my forebears. No blade can pierce it.”

Bilbo put the vest on but it didn’t quite feel right, the metal was absurdly light and fell to his knees, it constricted his movements strangely. “I look absurd. I’m not a warrior; I’m a Hobbit.”

“You are much more than that Bilbo Baggins.” Thorin said with a strange light in his eyes. “It is a gift, a token of our friendship. True friends are hard to come by.”

Thorin leaned in to Bilbo, whispering to him conspiratorially “I have been blind but now I begin to see the truth of it. I am betrayed!”

“Betrayed?” Bilbo questioned

“The Arkenstone. One of them has taken it.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo gasps

“One of them is false.” Thorin confirms

“Thorin...the quest is fulfilled.” Bilbo pleaded but the strange light in Thorin’s eyes was stronger than ever, he was not truly listening.” The Arkenstone is gone but you’ve won the mountain. Is that not enough?”

“Betrayed by my own kin but not by you.”

“Thorin you’re not thinking straight, you have not been betrayed. The treaty with Smaug may have died with him but you still made a promise... to the people of Laketown. Is this treasure truly worth more than your honour? Our honour, Thorin. I was also there, I gave my word that you could be trusted.”

“For that I’m grateful. It was nobly done and only serves to prove that I am right in my judgement. You are clearly sent to us by Mahal to aid our cause, using Mahals own furnace to guide us, this is why I know I can trust you Bilbo Baggins.” Thorin said, patting Bilbo on the shoulder “But the treasure in this mountain does not belong to the people of Laketown! This gold...is ours...and ours alone. By my life I will not part with a chip, they cannot steal it now it is one whole! My wealth is absolute!”

Bilbo shook his head, knowing Thorin Oakenshield was gone even as the King Under the Mountain returned to his treasury. Bilbo returned to the battlements, he couldn’t stand to see the Dwarves as they were and besides there was nothing for him inside. No more food, no more water and his friends were gone but out here in the warm breeze of the night he could at least pretend there was still hope. 

That perhaps he’d find something more important that treasure that could stop this war before it began but what did they have to offer? Gold sick Dwarves, a mound of cursed dragon gold too useless to do anything with and a mountain falling to ruins. 

So Bilbo watched the sun rise and bring with it the promised armies of Men and Elves once more to the gates though this time they brought with them a familiar friend. 

“Gandalf!” Bilbo called jumping to is feet, even as the Dwarves strode up the steps to the ramparts. 

“Interesting Wizard,” Called Thorin over Bilbo’s head as he approached the battlements, “That you failed to join us as promised when we needed you most only to return with a company of armed Elves. It seems you keep poor company these day.” 

“Thorin Oakenshield, it is good to see you and your company well though your manners still leave much to be desired. Come down from your mountain, let us break bread together as there is much to discuss.” The Wizard said cordially, ignoring Thorin’s taunting with the patience of one who had seen much. 

“I have nothing to discuss with you Gandalf while you stand at my gates with my enemies.”

“The only enemies here are the ones you are making for yourself with your stubbornness you foolish Dwarf, the threats to the mountain lay further afield than that in the form of Orcs and Goblins approaching. You must have heard from your ravens, to defeat their force we must all band together or else perish alone.” Bilbo blanched at the thought of an unavoidable war, either with the Men and Elves or with the Orcs and Goblins. 

“So be it… let them perish.” Bilbo felt as though he were going to be sick at Thorin’s coldness, he stumbled back as the Dwarf turned dramatically away from those below. 

“Thorin, this isn’t right. We’ll all die like this…” 

“It is none of your concern Hobbit…” He answered dismissively but Bilbo in turn blocked his path and raised his voice. 

“It is my concern Thorin, it is not just your life you are discarding here but the lives of our friends and my life too. You’re not yourself, please see sense!”

Bilbo registered the sharp pain flaring across his cheek first, then the fact that he was now sprawled across the stones as the Dwarf stood over him voice low with menace. 

“Do not presume to call yourself Dwarf-friend Shire-rat, you have been a useful tool and nothing more. If you do not like how I run my Kingdom then leave, leave and know that if you return you will share the same fate as the last Monster which set foot in my Halls.”

Bilbo sat, stunned with his hand cradling his bruised cheek, as Thorin stormed away; the Hobbit looked at the other members of the company but they simply turned their heads and followed their leader away. 

A few mouthed apologies or shot Bilbo sorrowful looks but they knew better than to act against their King lest they too be cast out. So, Bilbo watched them go, feeling a deep chill under his skin and a familiar sting behind his eyes. When Bilbo managed to get to his feet and scrambled over the barricade he was greeted by an aged Wizard with sad eyes. 

“Bilbo my lad…” In a moment of rare weakness Bilbo threw himself into the Wizard’s robes and wept, the steam rising from his tears as they fell was masked by the folds of Gandalf’s cloak as he held the small Hobbit close. “I’m sorry it has come to this, you have done admirably and your mother would be so very proud.” 

Bilbo shook his head in denial but couldn’t bring himself to speak as he thought of his deceased parents and what they must think of him. 

“Nonsense, I remember your mother being over the moon when wee little Bilbo Baggins ‘accidentally’ set off one of my fireworks at the mid summer’s eve feast with nothing more than his pointer finger. I doubt you’d remember but funnily enough it was a firework of a massive fire Drake, caused quite the scandal.” Gandalf chuckled “You have always had greatness within you Bilbo Baggins, even without your flames you are an amazing Hobbit and deserve better.”

Bilbo just sniffled and wiped his eyes, unable to respond to the kind words even as Gandalf led him back to the tents of Men and Elves. 

 


	15. A single Spark can create an inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter only the Epilogue to go...

Bilbo was welcomed into the makeshift city where he was fed, given better clothes and allowed to rest but the Hobbit kept mostly to himself. Bilbo gave his thanks where due both otherwise spoke to no one, especially when Lord Dain of the Iron Hills arrived and another fight broke out between the Elves of Mirkwood and the Dwarves. Bilbo sat staring into the cookfire where he’d perched himself, surprised when Bard joined him. 

“This entire situation is ridiculous and I’m sorry you have suffered, the way they cared for you in Laketown proved that they regarded you highly and I had hoped after receiving the warning from Thorin that you were all okay but it seems I was mistaken.” 

Bilbo turned to the Bowman, the sounds of shouting drowned out as his mind focused in on Bard’s words. “What warning?” 

Bard raised a brow, “I assumed you knew, while you were riddling and distracting Smaug Thorin sent us a missive to warn us of the dragon. It gave me enough time to get the black arrows and our people to shelter. Without it we never would have caught the beast by surprise, there would have been so much damage.”

“Stop.” Bilbo was on his feet, glaring at the confused looking Man. That familiar burn of anger replacing the hollow ache of loneliness within him. 

“What’s wrong? I’m merely trying to thank you in your part of riding the world of that Evil.” 

“Enough,” The fire leapt behind Bilbo but he was too angry to notice. “Smaug was not Evil, he was greedy, overly dramatic and rude but he wasn’t evil. We’d made a bargain… which you’ll know, as well as I, are binding for dragons, that he would leave peacefully. Laketown was in no danger, you didn’t need to kill him.” 

“That… That was not what we were told…” From within his tunic Bard took a piece of parchment and handed it to the Hobbit. Bilbo unfolded the letter and read the now familiar writing. 

“The beast will soon take flight but he is distracted, now is your time to strike heir of Girion.”

Bilbo’s blood when cold as he crumpled the note in his fist, the parchment turning to ash and disintegrating as he did so. With gritted teeth and eyes cast out towards the fields beyond he spoke, rage barely controlled. 

“I would recommend, Bow man, that you find Gandalf and tell him to keep a safe distance. As for the rest of you and that lot, Bilbo flicked his chin towards the still bickering Elves and Dwarves, “If you don’t want to get hurt fall back.”

Bilbo didn’t wait for an answer from the stunned Man, he unsheathed his sword and stormed through the encampment toward the open fields in the Direction Gandalf claimed the Orcs would descend from, each step leaving a scorched footprint behind him. The Hobbit did not stop to watch if Bard followed his instructions, frankly he didn’t care. He was angry, in fact he was so beyond angry that he could feel it boiling within him. Thorin had betrayed his word even before he’d touched the gold, he had entered the mountain and made the deal with Smaug knowing full well he planned to double cross the fire Drake and Balin let him do it. Balin had been with him when they sent the raven, they had not only betrayed Smaug but also Bilbo. They had lied to him after calling him friend and besmirched his own honour twice now. Smaug’s blood and the dimming of his flame was on Bilbo’s hands now, he felt stained beyond recognition and if he didn’t do something he was going to self-destruct. So Bilbo marched, he marched with his sword drawn away from the Dwarves who’d hurt him, the Elves who’d imprisoned him, the Men who’d taken away the only creature who understood him and the Wizard who was directly responsible for it all. 

Distantly Bilbo herd his name being called, but he did not slow not even when he finally began to see the swarm before him. Instead he drew a line in the ground with his letter opener and watched them flames burn from his hand down the blade and into the grass. As the line stretched out across the field it started as a thin string of flames but as Bilbo walked towards the oncoming army it grew until behind him was a scorched marker ensuring the fire wouldn’t travel back should he lose control and in front of him was a solid wave of flame. Bilbo let his flames consume him as never before, he let his pain, his anger and his grief out into the blaze until there was nothing left inside but the thumping pulse of the fire.

Bilbo didn’t see the Goblins or the Orcs when he finally reached them, didn’t hear their screams over the roar within his ears, but he did feel them burn and he knew they were afraid. All he could think was “Good”. 

X~X~X

“I’m going over the wall, who’s with me?” Fili called as he donned his armour, and watched many of the others do the same. 

“Stand down” Fili turned to his Uncle, or the Dwarf who claimed to be him, in surprise. 

“What?” Came a call, perhaps it was Ori and maybe his own brother but Fili was focused on Thorin. 

“Are we to do nothing? While Bilbo stands out there defending our home alone, we are to hide in here like cowards?” Fili spat in disgust. 

“I said Stand Down!” 

“Since when do we forsake our own people? Thorin, he will die out there, then so will Dain and our kin from the Iron mountains.” Questioned Dwalin as he too readied for battle but Thorin did nothing. 

“Did you not hear me?! Dain is surrounded by Elves and Men! Bilbo stands alone exhausting himself. They will be slaughtered, Thorin.” Dwalin argued, grabbing Thorin’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. 

“Many die in war. Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend!” The Company shared a collective look of horror and their hearts sank. 

“You sit here in these vast halls, with a crown upon your head, and yet you are lesser now than you have ever been.”

“Do not speak to me as if I was some lowly dwarf lord… I AM YOUR KING!”

Dwalin shook his head as the company began to move out, scaling the wall. “You were always my king but once I also called you brother and kin. That meant something once.” Dwalin joined the others in their trek over the wall, leaving behind the would-be king in his cursed treasury. They joined with Dain’s Dwarrow and asked after Gandalf or any semblance of a plan, neither were forthcoming as they watched the fires rage on the fields before them. 

“This can’t be good…” murmured Bofur when Dwalin drew close and he had to agree, the flames were not a strong as they had been or as thick. If the Goblins or Orcs had a mind to they could probably move through or past them with only minimal injuries but they were too focused on Bilbo to think about what may lay beyond; though currently nothing but empty ashen fields stood behind the Hobbit and the company planned to rectify that. 

Raising his voice about the general chatter Kili surprised the company with his cry to action. “Company, to Bilbo” and as a unit they began to run towards their lone comrade, unaware that their actions caused a ripple effect and suddenly the fields were full of soldiers and when Bilbo fell it was into the waiting arms Dori who wrapped the steaming Hobbit in a blanket and ran him back to the encampment and safety.


	16. The Burn out (Epilogue)

‘And so, Dear Frodo the Battle was won, I don’t remember much of it but I am told that not only did the Three Kings, Thorin, Thranduil and Bard, band together to defeat Azog the Defiler but that we also received assistance from Beorn the Skin Changer as well as the Great Eagles once more.

But what then I’m sure you’re asking, well once I awoke in the healing tents the Dwarves and I made our peace. Even Thorin was there with apologies on his lips, I am glad to say the company suffered no fatalities that day but others were not so lucky my dear nephew. Many lives were carelessly lost, it is the burden of the survivors to remember and honour them. Always remember that Frodo. 

After I healed, as much as I could, I returned to the Shire to find my home being sold off by your Great Aunt Lobelia Sackville-Baggins! Though she’d kept all my silverware for herself. It took time but slowly everything returned to the way it was around here, the Shire is resilient in that way. 

Though Gandalf had been right when he said I would return a changed Hobbit but I’d never expected he would be quite so right. You see I lost my flame that day Frodo, in doing what I did I burnt it out. And while I do not regret it, I do miss the comforting flicker of warmth in my chest. 

Though I supposed if I hadn’t then they never would have let such a ‘volatile’ Hobbit become your guardian, ‘ey lad? 

But what of the Dwarves? Well, I still receive letters on occasion from Ori, Balin and Bofur and they all claim Erebor prospers. After the war and the realisation of how far he’d fallen to the Gold Sickness Thorin abdicated his throne, Erebor is now jointly ruled by Fili and Kili… Yavana help them… while their elders offer guidance and Thorin atones in his own way. I hear he is building some kind of monument to remember all that happened, using only that Gold which had been promised to Smaug. His way of honouring the treaty I suppose. 

Ori claims it is going to be an accurate sculpture of the Fire Drake but I wonder, there was more to Smaug then met the eye so I do not know if one could ever truly capture him on page or in plaster… but perhaps Thorin will manage. 

The other Dwarves have settled comfortably into their roles as Heroes of Erebor and their high-ranking positions, those with families have been reunited and those with crafts continue to excel. If you ever have the chance my boy, go to Dale and meet the Dwarves there as I am sure you’ll understand what I mean when you do. 

And now my dear boy this story is done, it is time for us both to create some new and more brilliant ones. This old Hobbit still has some life in him yet. 

Your Uncle,

Bilbo Baggins.


	17. Extras - By popular demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems my ending left a few of you, dissatisfied and with questions... that's okay because the whole thing is in my head so lucky you, more heart break! 
> 
> I will add extra based on requests, and whatever my brain decides to come up with when it feels like torturing me... Have fun! 
> 
> Extra 1: Bilbo wakes up after the battle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems my ending left a few of you, dissatisfied and with questions... that's okay because the whole thing is in my head so lucky you, more heart break! 
> 
> I will add extra based on requests, and whatever my brain decides to come up with when it feels like torturing me... Have fun! 
> 
> Extra 1: Bilbo wakes up after the battle...

Extra 1- Waking up:

When consciousness came back to Bilbo it was a slow, cold affair. It was like wading through the bogs of a marsh that threatens to suck you in with each step while leaching you of your strength as you struggle against it. Bilbo knew, in a way that he could not explain, that his flame was gone. It was as though all the warmth in his body was suddenly gone and a part of who he was had been stolen from him. Bilbo felt the tears break through he closed eyes and spill down his temples where he lay, he didn’t have the strength to hold them back as he mourned something he hadn’t known he could lose. Bilbo felt empty in a way that made his entire chest feel like it was likely to cave in and chilled worse than ever he had felt, including his ride barrel ride through Mirkwood.

Bilbo couldn’t say how long he lay there, eyes closed and tears drying only to be replaced by fresh waves of pain, his breathing was ragged and his mind raced with emotions, fears and images he couldn’t quite remove himself from. Bilbo tried to calm himself, to focus on anything but the knowing feeling of emptiness within but try as he might there was nothing to take his mind from it. 

Around him was the sound of people, though it was distant and muted enough that he couldn’t focus on it, he was most likely in a medical tent on a cot as beneath him did not feel rough like the ground should be nor could he feel the swirling of the wind or the heat of the sun. Bilbo felt disconnected and alone, he knew he could… should… open his eyes and Do something but he did not possess the will or the strength. With his eyes closed he could continue to pretend that this was all a nightmare, opening his eyes would make it real. 

“Bilbo…” came a gentle voice that was both welcome in its familiarity and comfort yet dreaded in the reality and finality it brought with it. 

“Gandalf…” Bilbo croaked, his voice harsh and broken with emotion and though he kept his eyes closed it was now to stop the flood of tears that would sure break through anew should he open them. He felt the pressure of Gandalf’s weight on the cot a moment before he was pulled into the wizard’s warm embrace, long and ancient fingers carding through the Hobbit’s hair as though he were a faunt once more. “Gandalf…” was all he could manage before he broke apart yet again, the comfort Gandalf offered a double-edged sword.

“Shhh, I know Bilbo… I know…” The Wizard whispered as he held together the remaining pieces of what was once Bilbo Baggins, Fire Hobbit of the Shire. “I am so sorry lad, I heard it was possible but in all my years I have never seen it happen. I wish I could tell you this was temporary, that in time once you heal your flame may return but I do not wish to give you false hope…”

Bilbo nodded into Gandalf’s road worn robes, he’d already known there was not hope so at least he wouldn’t have to bear through others trying to convince him otherwise and try to put on a smiling face. 

“Soon an elf healer will be in to check on you lad, you made quite the impact on that battle field. I’m sure I do not need to tell you the battle was won, with far less casualties than there could have been thanks to your foolishness. You exhausted yourself out there, as you’d know better than I, but you’d been unconscious for three days. Everyone has been worried.” 

Bilbo wondered why anyone would be worried about him, he was a tool which had outlived its usefulness, a monster without power, a Hobbit without his gift. 

“Now Bilbo, that’s ridiculous!” Stupid wizards and their mind reading… “Even without your flames you are an incredible Hobbit and you are the hero of Erebor. Your Dwarves have been taking shifts to pace outside your tent until you woke up, you fail to see the power you have within you simply by being you.” 

Bilbo wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew better. Instead he simply opened them and shuffled away from the wizard in an attempt to compose himself, he was a grown Hobbit and a Baggins after all. 

“There we are lad, take some time and get yourself in order. The healer will be here shortly and I am sure after the all clear is given you’ll have no shortage of visitors.” Bilbo nodded and as Gandalf left he looked around the tent. It was sparse yet comfortable and at a side table there stood a pitcher of water, bowl and cup. Bilbo drank a cup and washed his face, he was contemplating the temperature change of the water when an Elf appeared at the tent flap, waiting patiently to be invited in. 

Bilbo nodded but did not speak, he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice and his throat felt raw. The Elf gave one of those bare twitches of their lips which counted as a smile, he thought it did at least, and examined him. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to and for that Bilbo was grateful since Bilbo didn’t have the words within him right now or the energy to be polite, he was still hyper aware of the throbbing emptiness which could not be healed even by Elven medicine. 

Eventually the Elf finished, nodded and with another twitch of their lips prepared to leave but before they went Bilbo grabbed their sleeve and while making eye contact shook his head just slightly. The Elf’s eyes widened just a fraction before the nodded and left, message received. 

Following that Bilbo was blissfully left along, Gandalf’s warned visitors were kept away and Bilbo curled around himself in a ball on the cot and just focused on breathing. He couldn’t face the Dwarves, not right now, he was too hurt and too raw to be the Hobbit they knew. Bilbo knew he would forgive them, what else could he do? The gold had affected them as he’d been warned it might, and hurtful as Thorin’s words were they were nothing he had not heard from his own kin within the Shire. However, it was Smaug’s death which hung heaviest on the Hobbit, the burden of his loss more than Bilbo had ever expected it to be. By his actions on this quest Smaug’s fire had been extinguished, perhaps it was the Valar’s plan that he should pay for that with the loss of his own. 

Bilbo would give the Dwarves his forgiveness, that was what was expected of a Hobbit and of a Baggins. He would not hold a grudge, it simply was not in his nature… though perhaps his cousin Lobelia was an exception. This was his fault, and his burden to bare, he knew all this just as strongly as he knew that if he were to lay eyes on the Dwarves at this moment he would break down once more. That he would cast them out as he had been cast out, that he would throw Thorin’s words back at him for the King reminded him more of an Orc or perhaps a Goblin than a Dwarf… 

Bilbo needed time, and space right now to patch up his betrayed heart, to wish them well with all the politeness of a Hobbit, to never let them know how deeply they cut him before he’d return to the Shire and his empty home. A home much more fitting now in its silence and chill. He knew Gandalf would help him, escort him part way out of guilt if nothing else. Tomorrow would be soon enough to make the arrangements, they could move out in the evening if not the next morning. The Hobbit needed to put Erebor behind him, lest he continue to fall and break what little remained of his heart.


	18. Extra 2: Disgust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those craving an insight into the Dwarrow, here's a little snippet...

The once proud Dwarves of Erebor had never fallen so low, the company of Thorin Oakenshield could barely look at each other let alone themselves without the knowledge of what they’d done making their stomachs churn and roil. The knowledge that their actions had caused Bilbo, their comrade and friend, injury and pain tortured their thoughts like a plague. 

Most of the Dwarrow kept busy around the camp, helping the healers with the wounded or disposing of the orc and goblin corpses in big bonfires before they began to rot. Their own fallen where laid to rest in the earth surrounding Erebor as was the custom of Men and apparently of Hobbits. There were too many to return to their families or to mark each grave but they did the best they could. The harder they worked, the more they pushed themselves the less they were left alone with their knowing thoughts and the heavy guilt which would not abate. They rose at dawn, went their separate days and collapsed into their bedrolls late into the night. The knowledge that Bilbo had awoken had lightened some hearts though the fact remained that they had yet to see their Hobbit, or to know if they were even welcome. 

Though none were as tormented by their actions as Thorin, the Company had walked away from Bilbo but Thorin had cast the Hobbit out. Had struck him, played on his fears to hurt him and above all had betrayed him and Thorin’s own honour by writing what he had to Bard. Thorin did not regret the death of the Fire Drake, it had caused much pain for his people but he did regret the part he played in orchestrating Smaug’s demise. As a King it was so beneath him, his disregard for his word and the lives of his people that even shearing his beard would not be worthy atonement. Thorin spent his days collecting the dead, doing his best to identify them and commit them to memory. Their memory was his burden. 

The fallen King left the meetings and planning to Balin, the other more than capable of doing that which must be done and seeming to understand Thorin’s reluctance to leave the battlefield for the privilege of a sheltered tent. 

Winter was beginning to set in, there was a chill to the air which had them burning fires constantly at camp but that did not stop the work which needed doing, supplies which needed distributing and shelter which must be found. Fili and Kili were working with Dain and his men to clear what they could of Erebor and move the encampment within the relative shelter the mountain provided. Thorin approved of their decision and their initiative so he held back and left them too it, his nephews had grown much over the journey but never more so than the last few days. Thorin was incredibly proud of them, though he had not the words to say as much… not when their eyes averted every time he approached them. 

Thorin did not blame them for being disgusted with him, shamed to call him kin since he too would feel as much in their position. Thorin Oathbreaker, King of a crumbling mountain. The Dwarf knew it wouldn’t be long before tell of his actions got out, that similar names would be whispered behind his back as he walked by. In a way he almost craved the scorn of those around him, punishment he more than deserved for sins which could never be forgiven or erased. 

Mahal have mercy, he would never be able to face his kin in the halls of their maker having done what he did and Thorin knew it, the company knew it, yet it still wasn’t enough.


End file.
